Logan gave a quick grin and wink in our direction before returning his attention to his duties as the official swing pusher.
Flirt.
I tried pulling my eyes away from Logan, Clare's perfectly built husband. It was difficult. Even almost six months into cancer treatment, he was still a hot piece of ass. Long and lean, he was built like a swimmer. He'd lost a bit of weight when he started chemo, but he'd still kept his handsome features. He'd shaved his head, opting to take it all at once, and damn if the man didn't look sexier that way.
"Hey, Logan told me what you did for him the other night with the kid. Thank you. He was pretty wrecked when he got home," she said quietly while Logan's attention was diverted. She looked at me with a meaningful smile.
"Anytime, babe."
Successfully turning my attention away from Logan, my eyes traveled until they found something else entirely —my Maddie, my beautiful goddaughter. She was the best present a best friend could give. She was the spitting image of Clare and her late husband, Ethan. Sometimes, it hurt to look at Maddie, seeing Ethan's eyes shining through, but knowing he lived on brought me hope. She carried his wisdom and love, and being around her always made me want to be a better person. Clare was the best mother a child could have, having been raised by amazing parents herself, and it showed in everything Maddie did. She was perfection.
Logan laughed while Maddie kicked her feet back and forth excitedly as he pushed her higher and higher. He was healing. I could see it. Two months ago, he wouldn't have been able to do this, but here he was, slowly regaining his strength. His doctors hadn't given him a clean bill of health yet, but it was coming. He was coming back to us slowly, and the outlook was very optimistic.
Knowing Clare wouldn't have to suffer the loss of another husband was a relief I couldn't put into words. Losing her first husband, Ethan, had almost killed her. The only thing that had kept her going was Maddie. Knowing she had to care for that tiny innocent child had given her the will to carry on. That was, until she'd met Logan. Then, I had seen her come alive again. That glowing radiance she carried with her in her movements, her voice, and her smile —it had all come back when Logan entered her life.
And then, we'd found out that Logan had cancer. It was ironic how life could be so cruel. But here we were, six months later, and I was finally able to take a breath again. I felt like I'd been stepping on eggshells for months, waiting for our world to come crashing down again. But seeing Logan playing with Maddie in the park gave me hope.
"So, what are you going to do?" Clare asked.
She knew full well that my dismissal the other evening wasn't the last I'd see of Declan James. My body and mind wouldn't allow it. Saying no to him had taken almost every bit of will I had. I was drawn to him, and it was just a matter of time before I found myself at that hotel, knocking on his door.
I needed this time to form a plan —or at least to make him sweat it out a bit. I couldn't be his sloppy seconds or his late-night booty call. I didn't want a relationship, but I wouldn't be a doormat either. I felt like I was being pulled in two different directions. I wanted to run as quickly and as far away as possible, knowing he could end me if he tried, yet the more I told myself to stay away, the more I wanted to throw caution to the wind and get to that hotel as quickly as possible. After Daniel, my college sweetheart that turned out to be anything but and a childhood of mistrust —thanks to a father who really gave definition to the word deadbeat —I couldn't afford to give my trust to another man who didn't deserve it.
"I don't know, but I do know one thing. It will be on my f**king terms."
Chapter Three
~Declan~
"Just get it f**king done!" I roared, causing the personal assistant on the other end of the line to whimper in fear.
He sputtered off an acknowledgment, and I ended the call, sighing in frustration. I paced the floor of the hotel room that would be home for the next three months. I was usually calm and fairly easygoing. At times, I was intense maybe, but I was never one to cause a PA to piss himself with my voice alone. Angry and pissed-off Declan was a new thing. The people on the set didn't know how to react, and personally, I didn't either.
I had managed to screw up every one of my lines at the read-through yesterday, gotten in an argument with my director, and even pissed off the caterer because there wasn't enough coffee. I was now known as the bitchy diva on the set. Fucking great.
I couldn't concentrate. I was restless, irritable, and so goddamn horny.
Leah had said no. She had f**king said no...to me. In my entire adult life, I'd never been turned down by a woman I had pursued. Call me cocky, but when I put my sights on something, I always got my prize. I'd stepped off the plane that night, ready to put Leah Morgan in my past. She was an aching need I couldn't squelch, and I wanted nothing more than to sink into those silky thighs once more, so I could walk away a cured man. But then, she'd opened that door, wearing a bathrobe and slippers, with a mug in her hand, looking absolutely dumbstruck. It was...well, adorable. Fuck! I hated that word.
Seeing her flustered and off her game had given me great pleasure. It reminded me of the quiet woman I'd met that night in the bar. I'd thought, This will be easy, simple. I'll be cured by morning, ready to start fresh and begin my life again —free of Leah Morgan.
I had taken advantage of her shock, playing into her bewildered reaction to my surprising presence. I'd stalked her, reminding her of how good we had been together that night, and her body had instantly blossomed under my touch. I'd had her in my grasp. Everything had been perfect.
And then, she'd said no. Her eyes had heated in anger, and she had taken a firm stance that had clearly backed up her words. It had taken a total one-eighty from the woman I'd just seduced not a minute before. I was learning there were many sides to Leah Morgan.
I'd never felt so angry, frustrated, and more turned-on in my entire life. No? What the hell? I couldn't leave, but I couldn't stay. I'd practically thrown my hotel information at her before walking out the door. As the door had clicked into place, I'd heard her curse in frustration, and I'd known that this wasn't over.
She was playing me or simply delaying the inevitable, and it would only be a matter of time before she came knocking on my door, begging me for more. I just had to wait it out. She'd be crawling back to my hotel, begging me to take her, in a day, two tops. I couldn't contain the all-out grin I had spread all over my face that night as I'd driven back to my hotel.
But now, it had been a week —a motherfucking week. I didn't play games, and I wasn't a patient man. This cat-and-mouse game was making me restless, but I still couldn't back down. No matter how many women passed me in the hotel lobby, giving me a shy smile and wave, I couldn't give in. Even a blatant invite from my costar to visit her trailer had gotten nothing in return. I couldn't do it. I had unfinished business, and it demanded closure.